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Makin' Homemade Booze 1-21-18
MORE OLD TIMEY STUFF MAKIN' HOMEMADE BOOZE 'SPODY ODY' 1-21-18 Now my Uncle Ray was a little wild and crazy.. he encouraged the dangerous side of me with a jackknife, wooden sword and my first .22 rifle on entering first grade and he was always thinking up something. If you looked at him you could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes that always had a glint in them. He had his step daughter Jean with us for a summer visit, and havin' a girl around was a pain for both Bingo and me, so Uncle Ray thought a common project would get us all united on the same thing... and that was to make him a Big Batch of "Home Brew". Now Home Brew is not really beer or wine or moonshine. it is just some fermented concoction made up of whatever stuff someone thinks will taste good and let it ferment two weeks or so, the way hard cider gets. So the project began and we brought up one of the Big earthenware crocks from the cellar that we made sauerkraut in and they held about 30 gallons. We scrubbed it our good and Uncle Ray scalded it with boiling water to 'sterlize it' he said. We added about ten gallons of warm water to the crock and he started adding stuff. He really 'got into it' measuring and flinging, and dumping and all the while urging me to stir with this big wooden thing we used to stir the laundry in the bleach tub. First in went 5 sacks of sugar, then 5 pound boxes of raisins and I was stirring like mad and it did smell fruity and nice so far. he hung a thermometer in the mix and measured the temperature and when he was satisfied he dumped in a whole box of bread yeast and the mixture took on the smell of raising fruitcake or raisin bread or sumthin'. Meanwhile he was making a big pot of oatmeal on the wood-stove. All the while he was humming this tune "drinkin' wine spody ody'. When the oatmeal was done he took it off and let it cool and added water until it was the consistency of lukewarm oatmeal soup. "Stir Boy!" he said to me grinning.. "here comes some good stuff!" Personally I was beginning to have my doubts that even the pig would eat this mess. In went the oatmeal slurry and I was still stirring and my arms were starting to get tired. "Don't quit yet boy" he said laughing. "just a little more then it can rest and have a sleep and 'work' its magic" He added a few sweet dried herbs an things I don't really remember which ones, and at last he added water to bring it up almost to the top of the crock. I pulled out the 'stirrer' and he tied a big piece of white cloth over the top with twine and there it sat behind the kitchen cook stove. Now we didn't touch it. It sat and it did give off a nice aroma of fruity bread smell in the kitchen. My mother eyed it with a dubious eye and she knew Uncle Ray and his eccentric ways and harrumphed to herself and mumbled about the crock while she was rolling biscuits Meanwhile Uncle Ray sent me and Jean to all the neighbors we knew who drank beer, to collect used brown beer bottles. We had a 'capper' that we used to cap homemade root beet that would recap most bottles back then. "Beer bottles is beer bottles", said Uncle Ray Grinning. Tell 'em they can come and taste the final product when it is ready. We told them with a doubtful grin ourselves, but the neighbors seemed happy about it. Now the whole thing was eating away at my mother and she was starting to grumble about the crock from time to time and knowing my mother as I did, saw the storm clouds gathering, but she held her tongue. The second week of 'brewing' was under way and I heard my mother mumbling while she rolled biscuits. "I sure would like to teach Ray a lesson", she grumbled, "I surely would!" Now you remember that devil and angel that get on your shoulders? The ones in the cartoons? They were both talking to me right then! They had showed up back when I was taking that daredevil jump with the sled... and now they were back again! 'This is a perfect time to play a trick on Uncle Ray!" the little Devil said grinning and nudged me with that little pitchfork. "Noooo Danny", said the little Angel, there is never any excuse to be mean to people!" I brushed them off my shoulders, but the thoughts were still percolating in the back of my head. Jean was moping in the yard and I asked her "what's up?". "Oh it's Papa", she grumbled, "I hate it when he drinks.. he acts all stupid and makes me feel so embarrassed. I wish I could make him stop!" POOF the little Devil was on me shoulder grinning again.. "See?" he said.. "You could play a trick and do a good deed all in one!".. "Whoa.." said the little Angel, " I'm not so sure that is really so!" I shook 'em off but now we were two kids with thoughts percolating. The 16th day came and Uncle Ray siphoned off the clear yellow colored liquid, leaving the foam and residue behind. It was fizzy and bubbly and he bottled it and Jean held the bottle while I pulled on the handle and capped it. There were almost 100 bottles when we were done not using the wasted part. Jean had a devious idea. "Suppose we don't do anything to Papa's batch.. but suppose we make some bottles of our own and mix them in among the others?" "Waddya mean?" I said curiosity building. "Lets take leftover nasty juice from cooking and old pickle juice and whatever we can find and make a nasty batch and bottle it! We can mark our bottles with a 'X' on the cap. Then hide our bottles among the others. When they taste it they will never wanna drink again!" "I'll help!" my mother said her eyes flashing little lightning flashes. "That Ray has gone too far! I wanna see him get his 'comeuppance'. the little Devil was starting an Irish Jig on my right shoulder while my mother pulled her canner out of the pantry. In went string bean juice, boiled potato water, old pickle juice, and some leftover sauerkraut juice and anything liquid we could find left over and we added water.. "yuck" said my mother but it doesn't taste boozy. She added 4 bottles of real store bought beer from Uncle Rays 'stash and we stirred it and she nodded. "That'll do it she said smirking," Ray is gonna invite his friends to taste his famous batch!" The little Devil had launched into 'Hava Nagila' and whirled with a flourish of his little pitchfork. Now Friday night came and so did the neighbors and Uncle Ray got out out his cards and they were all gonna play Rummy and drink Home Brew and 'shoot the breeze'. Jean and me were supposed to be seen and not heard and mother was gonna serve them pie and cake and be a hostess. My stepfather knew nothing about the whole thing. He did not drink and did not approve, but believing 'to each his own' didn't criticize and settled down in his chair to read the Dairy News. Uncle Ray came up from the cellar with 6 bottles and they used an opener and popped the caps. "Mmmmm not bad!" said Uncle Ray, "If I do say so myself!" "Accht!" cried Stubby Stevens spitting it out on the floor. "What the hell is that?" and my mother grinned and slapped her hands over my ears. "Ohhhhh my Gut!" moaned Rob Bridge, "I'm heading for the outhouse.. I gotta puke!" Uncle Ray took another sip of his and shrugged, "tastes alright to me.." he was shuffling the cards. They came back in and my mother had set apple pie in fromt of them and the mood was jovial again as the game got under way. "GIN", yelled Uncle Ray, "That's $2.40 you owe me" It wasn't a high stakes game. Uncle Ray was daring and he believed in his Brew so he came up from the cellar with 6 more bottles. Stubby Stevens took a careful sip, then smiled "Hay that one's not bad!" he said and took a long pull from the bottle. Rob Bridge was not convinced and took a careful sip and then his face turned into a smile. "You out done yourself Ray!" he commented. Uncle Ray basked in the glow and smiled and took a pull from his bottle. His face turned white, then gray, he choked and coughed and spit and gagged. He jumped up and ran for the door outside, while my mother had her hands over her mouth and we did too, trying not to let on. It was maybe 15 or 20 minutes before Uncle Ray came back inside. He did not look good.. He looked 'wrung out'. "I don't get it?" he said.. some is good and some is bad? "Serves you right, you boozer!" said my mother smirking. "We fixed your apple cart with a batch of our own! I hope that teaches you boys a lesson about how we feel about drinking parties!.. don't worry we didn't do nothing to ruin your batch.. just bottled a few special ones of our own." "Oh God" said Uncle Ray. "How many bottles were there?" "Nine and God had nothing to do with it!" she replied with a smirk "and don't you get on Danny and Jean cause I was in on it too." Uncle Ray looked really crestfallen and nodded. "Will you at least get rid of those other bad bottles?" he pleaded, and we nodded and grinned and went down to the cellar and pulled out the other 6 remaining bottles with the deadly 'X' on the cap. He was true to his word, and they shared the bottles among them and Uncle Ray never made "Home Brew" in our house again, tho he brought up the story many times. "I can't get over that look on Stubby's face", he would say with wonder. "I don't know how to describe it!" "Horror", said my mother smugly, "It was pure horror!" © Copyright 2018 by Daniel Blankley. All rights reserved. .